After the Battle
by Severus Snape MiM
Summary: What happened after Mister Potter abandoned me in the Shrieking Shack? Read to find out.


It's dark. I can see nothing. This is the first thought that registers.

There is dust in my throat, and my lungs protest the intrusion. My body lurches as I cough.

I realize that I'm conscious of my surroundings. I'm aware of the darkness. I'm aware of my need to cough. Can dead people cough? Is that possible? Is it necessary?

NO. Dead people do not breathe, and therefore they have no need to cough. I don't ever recall Professor Binns or the Bloody Baron coughing either.

I can draw only one conclusion from this.

If I am coughing, and thinking, and existing…

I can't move. My entire body seems to be paralyzed.

I'm hungry. Starving! I need a house elf…or a Fan Girl…to feed me.

And somehow, suddenly, my eyes open.

I'm…where am I? My first reaction is that I know where I am. I've spent a great deal of time here over the past decades. Miserable hours, pouring over students' essays. A quill in one hand, scribbling on the pages in red ink. The cloudy eyes of various slimy creatures stare at me from their places of honour on my shelves. Many a student has likely suspected that these critters were placed there simply to scare them, but if they had paid attention to any of my lectures, they would know that these creatures are actually crucial ingredients in the creation of dozens of potions.

The stone floor is hard against my body, but the pain I feel is surprisingly minimal. Slowly, I am able to raise my hand to my neck. It feels dry, and smooth. Normal. But, abnormally, there is no collar, no frock coat, nothing protecting my skin from the view of the world.

I'm naked, lying on the floor of the Potions classroom in the dungeons.

"The creature is stirring," says a voice I haven't heard for a year, but could never forget. "Good to see you looking alive, my boy."

Before my eyes, folded neatly on the floor, are a set of black robes. Not the severe type I favour, but a set of Slytherin school robes. When had they arrived? Had I simply overlooked them in the moments leading up to this? I reach for them. Lifting my body with surprising ease, I pull them on.

I stare at the man who controlled my life for eighteen years. The man for whom, at a young age, I sacrificed the bright future I was brilliant enough, capable enough, of obtaining. Because he had offered me protection. A way out of the darkness.

He sat at the desk, which had been mine for nearly two decades. In my chair. I'd always loved that old desk. It was ancient, and the patterns in its wood seemed to tell the story of its existence. When my time in this classroom had ended, leaving the desk behind had been my one great regret. I hated that Dumbledore was sitting there, looking as if he owned it, very much the way he had before the curse had slowly begun to steal his life.

My mouth opens. "Potter?" is what I say.

"Is doing fine. Your instruction will pull him through."

I laugh. In my current situation, it seems ridiculous that I'm even capable of laughing. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. I've never taught the boy anything of value, because he's never bothered to listen to a word I've said to him."

"Not true, Severus." Dumbledore is shaking his head, that irritating, genuine smile playing at his lips.

"Give me an example, then," I say, "of a time when Mister Potter has put my instruction to use.

"Mister Potter has listened to many things you've taught him," Dumbledore said. "He once used a bezoar to save the life of Mister Weasley…"

Had I taught him that? I couldn't recall…

As if reading my mind, Dumbledore continued. "Yes you did teach him about bezoars. However, if memory serves, it wasn't a true lesson. You were attempting to make him look like a fool."

Oh yes. Now I remember.

"And as we speak," Dumbledore continued, "Mister Potter is examining your memories. It was noble of you to fulfill your duty. A great personal sacrifice to share such private memories with the boy."

I laugh. "Don't make it out to be more than it is. I wasn't being noble, I was completing the job. I didn't do it for Potter's benefit."

"But now, Severus, the continued freedom of Wizardkind is possible because of your sacrifice."

"Stop!" I shout. I'm getting annoyed now. Dumbledore always did have a talent for annoying me more quickly than anyone else. "Can we get on with this? I don't expect I'm to spend all of eternity here in the Potions classroom."

"Is that where we are, Severus?" Dumbledore says. Somehow, he seems pleased. "I suppose it shouldn't come as such a shock. You've had many pleasant times in this room."

I stare. "I think not."

"Not teaching, necessarily," he continues. "I know teaching Potions was never your cup of tea. But you've spent endless hours brewing in this room. Researching. Developing new ideas. From when you were a student in this school, to as recently as yesterday, you have fed your creative passions right here, in this room."

He's correct, of course. As much as I hate teaching Potions, I have a passion for creating them. It's something that I excel at.

"So this is it, then," I say. "I'm dead. There's nothing more I can do for Potter. I can finally… rest." Somehow, this is a difficult concept for me.

The old man shakes his head. "Don't be so hasty, young man. I do believe there is still hope for you."

"How?" And do I even want hope? Do I need it?

He turns serious. Something Dumbledore only ever did when it truly was in my best interest to listen to him. "If you choose to continue living, Severus," he said, "allow her to heal you."

His face is honest, and open. He is hiding nothing.

"Her?" I ask.

"If this is what you choose," he continues, as he points over my shoulder towards the back of the room, "you must go now. Time is of the essence."

I turn, and see the door open. The light on the other side is blinding, surely the brightest light to ever be seen in the dungeons. My entire body is compelled to follow it, to see what lies in store for me on the other side.

Just before stepping through, I stop, and turn back to the old man who had been my mentor, and my master for far too long.

"And Mister Potter?" I ask.

Dumbledore smiles. "Trust him, Severus."

I nod, then turn and step through the door, into the bright light, to meet my future.

It is dark. I can see nothing. This is the first thought that registers.

At first, I am able to move my fingers. Then, after time, my arm.

Soon, my eyes open.

The Shrieking Shack. I hate this place. Nothing good has ever happened to me in the Shrieking Shack. In this horrid place, I've been attacked by a werewolf, hexed by Potter, ridiculed by Sirius Black, and now…

My eyes are blurry, but I can see that I'm lying in a pool of blood. Sticky and warm, it's most unpleasant. I feel…sick…or hungry, maybe. It's hard to know, my head is too cloudy. And then I recognize the sensation of hands on my face, holding my head off the ground. Hands that are not my own. Someone is here with me.

The look on her face is one of conflict, as if she can't decide whether to be relieved that I'm alive, or frightened because I'm so badly injured. With a flick of her wand, the blood surrounding me disappears.

"Severus," she says. Her voice is terribly shaky. I'm almost concerned for her. "Don't try to speak yet. Just blink if you can understand me,"

My eyes are so heavy, but I manage to blink. And then, just because I can, I speak. "Professor…" The absurdity isn't lost on me. She's saved my life. She's nursing me back to health. Just yesterday, we'd snogged for ages. Surely I'm in a position to call her by her first name. And such a lovely name it is…

"What part of 'don't speak' did you not understand?" Her voice is sharp. Annoyed, and full of fear simultaneously. Even if I were strong enough to perform Legilimency in this moment, I wouldn't have needed it to understand her turmoil. This day has been trying for everyone involved. For the whole of the Wizarding World, even.

Is it over? I don't know. I know nothing past the walls of this room. Nothing else quite matters, anyway. I am so relieved to see her.

She inhales slowly, and glances around the room for several moments. "I don't suppose you know a place where we can go?" she says, finally.

I can see her point, of course. The obvious places are out. The castle is still under siege, as far as I know, which leaves the hospital wing useless to us. St Mungo's is also impossible, as it would be unsafe for a known follower of the Dark Lord to be in such a public place under the current circumstances.

How odd. Dumbledore had always said that Hogwarts was the safest place in the world. It had certainly been my safe place since I was eleven years old. My one true home. But in this moment, the only safe place that came to mind is my _other_ home.

I try to speak, but the most I can manage is a sputter. Hopefully, she'll understand.

"Sp-Sp-Spinner's End," I say. "We'll be s-s-safe…there"

I can feel her arms move, securing a new hold on my body, and it causes pain. A groan escapes me.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, with a sad look.

And before I can respond, I'm encased in the suffocating grip of side-along apparition.

We appear in an alleyway. I recognize the place from my childhood days, though I've spent little time here recently. A Disillusionment charm covers us both, and my feet leave the ground. She is levitating me, moving me towards the row houses of Spinner's End.

A realization invades my brain. "I don't know where my wand is," I say. I begin to panic. I can barely remember a time in my life where I didn't have my wand. "Do you have it?"

She reaches into her robe pocket, and pulls out my ebony wand. Thank Merlin she'd had the foresight to retrieve it before leaving the shack. As if it's reading her thoughts while I'm too weak, my wand spins in her hand, and points the way home.

"Thank you, Severus," she says. "But you really should be resting."

I'm too exhausted to explain that this was not my conscious doing. "I'll rest when we get there," I say, brushing off her Levitation charm to walk the rest of the way.

Before I know it, we've arrived at my childhood home. We enter, and abruptly, I collapse on the floor.

"Severus!" Her voice is panicked, and before she knows it, she's kneeling at my side. "Severus! I know you hate to rely on others, but you're in no condition to be walking around as if you didn't just nearly die!"

She pulls me up, and soon I can feel her Levitating spell once more. I drift to the sofa, and she joins me, pushing me down to a resting position. From her robes she pulls a phial of potion. She uncorks it, and gently lifting my head, pouring it into my mouth.

"There you are," she says. "Now, we wait."

"How did you know where to find me," I ask, sometime later. "And where did you get the potion?"

She closes her eyes. "Truthfully," she answers, "I didn't know. I just knew I had to be there. I don't know how to explain it. I just knew."

_I must sound like an idiot to him…_

"I don't think you sound like an idiot," I say. "It makes perfect sense to me." Wait a minute… I must be regaining my strength.

She smiles. "It's not wise for you to go into my thoughts, Severus."

And, of course, she's correct. I can feel the energy drain from my body almost immediately. "It's not wise for you to let me into your thoughts," I say.

"It's not as though I could keep you out of my mind if I wanted, though." Gently, she caresses my cheek as her tone turns serious. "I have to know," she says. "What happened tonight. I mean, I don't understand."

"My allegiance to the Dark Lord is at its end." A coughing fit wreaks havoc on my body. Several minutes pass before I'm able to continue.

"Actually, it's been a very long time since I've been a true follower," I say. "He tried to kill me tonight, because he believed me to be the master of the Elder Wand. The Dark Lord was mistaken."

Apparently lost for words, she stares at me for several moments before speaking. "The ultimate Slytherin with hints of Gryffindor." She shakes her head. "Just how long have you worn this mask, Severus?"

"For nearly as long as you've known me. It was the only way to survive The Dark Lord, and accomplish what needed to be done…and don't ever call me a Gryffindor again." OK maybe that last bit was slightly harsh. I attempt to lighten the moment with a smile.

"Fine," she says, and laughs lightly. "Then you're a Slythindor, Severus."

Call me petty, but I've always had a problem with the claim that Gryffindors are the sole picture of bravery. "Are you trying to heal me, or kill me, Sinistra?" I ask. "Slytherins can be brave too."

She shakes her head. "Well," she says, "considering I just saved you, I believe I am attempting to keep you alive."

"You're such a…a…Hufflepuff," I say, and I mean it. It's not to say that a true Slytherin can't be inherently good. She has a sense of loyalty about her. She's a caregiver, as much as she's cunning and ambitious. Perhaps this is only my perception of her, but one thing I do know is that I'd like to learn more about this woman who was currently nursing me back to health.

"Why, thank you, Severus," she replies. "I do find myself to be loyal to a fault."

"And I'm certain your sandwich making skills must rival Tonkadora's." As the familiar nickname leaves my lips, I wonder if my old sparring partner is all right. Odd, that I'd worry for her.

It's time for bed. I need rest, and certainly my savior must be exhausted as well. With much effort, I heave my body from the sofa, and guide her to the only bed in the house. Briefly, it crosses my mind that she may misunderstand my intentions.

"You really must be tired if you're allowing me in here," she teases, and attempts to lower me to the bed, before glancing around the room. I suspect she's looking for a place to sit.

I take her hand, and pull her down to lay next to me. My intentions are entirely honorable, of course. But this is the only bed in the house, and I'm too gentlemanly to take it and leave her to fend for herself. That is the way my mother raised me. To respect women, especially those who travel so far from their own path in order to respect me.

Her head rests against my chest, and her eyes drift shut. "Goodnight, Severus," she whispers.

I allow my eyes to close as well, and softly, I reply.

"Goodnight, Aurora."

.com/pages/Headmaster-Severus-Snape-Potions-Genius-Formerly-MiM/189196084466820

_All quotes from Professor Aurora Sinistra were provided by her (Unofficial MiM) RPer. _


End file.
